


Dornish Red and Weirwood Strings

by rhaegars_harp



Series: Targaryen Extended Universe [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drunk Targs, F/M, Multi, Songs for Women, Targs being Targs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhaegars_harp/pseuds/rhaegars_harp
Summary: Targaryens answer to neither gods nor men; why should she have to answer to Aegon, if Aegon won't answer to her?





	Dornish Red and Weirwood Strings

Dornish Red and Weirwood Strings

 

Outraged. Furious. Incensed. _Murderous._ Each clack of a healed sandal on the cloud-colored marble of Maegor's Holdfast brought a new violent emotion to the reeling mind of Rhaenys Targaryen. A half moon's turn she had been gone, a handful of days. For a full year now, she thought she had asked so, _so_ little of Egg, that a promise to remain faithful for that ever so short amount of time seemed like the smallest thing her brother could have done.

Upon returning to her home earlier that day, Rhaenys had spilled out of the carriage in haste, not minding the fatigue from her return from Tarth. Her thin, scarlet dress billowed around lean, amber legs as she sought out Aegon, eager for a reunion. Not bothering to knock, the twenty year old princess pushed open her brother's door, only to take two steps and freeze on the spot. Now, if this was Allyria or Arianne, there would be no anger, just delight. Say this was Margaery Tyrell, or Lord Stark's eldest, there would certainly be questions, but with more than a little curiosity. However, the Dornishwomen had returned to the sun moons ago, and the latter two were prude noblewomen that, as pretty as Egg was, lacked the same blood that flowed through them. Equal parts Dornish and Valyrian, two different parts of the world, but united in the passion that burned, constantly. No, thought Rhaenys, as her head began to shake unconsciously as she watched her frustratingly beautiful, pathetically principled lecher of a brother being pleasured by that _whore_ Mya Stone. When her father's Master of Laws brought the girl to court to continue her education, she had thought Lord Arryn possessed a lot of nerve bringing the daughter of the man that desired Father's head on a spike. As she observed the scene for two heartbeats more, Rhaenys' vision began to take on the shade of her now roaring blood. Clearing her throat, the eldest of her generation of dragons made her decision.

"I asked for _ONE_ thing, Aegon bloody Targaryen."

Immediately, her brother's closed eyelids shot open to reveal wide pupils with orchid rims, blonde hair thrown carelessly about his bare shoulders. Rhaenys could actually see his brain freeze on how to handle this situation, she always knew what was going on inside that head. Silently hoping he was deciding between repentance or embarassment, Rhaenys could handle those two reactions, Aegon shocked her by choosing a third option: insolence.

Cocking his head slightly, a lazy little grin surfaced on Egg's face, offering a simple, "welcome back Rhae!"

At that point, the Dornish princess was operating off pure instinct, and in three long strides she reached out, slapped Aegon right under a slightly tanned cheekbone, spun on her heels, and marched out of Aegon's apartments, taking the time to send his crystal wine table crashing to the ground.

* * *

 

As Rhaenys pushed open the iron-wood door marked with a dragon resting in the sun, she finished replaying the memory of six hours ago her in mind. After storming out, Rhaenys anger had been the sole driver of her psyche, but managed to cobble together a regal demeanor to stomach a meal with Father and Lya, to gift 'senya a token of her visit to Tarth, a title called _The Sunset Kingdom; or Tales of Westeros from the Freehold_ , a generous present from the library of Lord Selwyn, and now the young woman found herself sprawled on her massive, brightly-sheeted canopy bed, allowing self-pity and hurt to displace anger. For all the headaches her brother caused her, since birth it seemed, they were one spirit in two bodies, a closeness they only fully developed in the past year. _Was she, a woman she knew men would fight wars over, not enough for her prince?_ Forcing herself to move, Rhaenys sat up to fling her sandals off her feet, flexing red-painted toes and giving herself a chance to rest after her diplomatic visit throughout the past moon. Padding over to her own wine table, a twin of the one that was now shattered on her brother's floor. The first glass took three beats of a heart to finish, the second following just as quickly. Pouring a full third cup, and promising to enjoy this one, Rhaenys strolled onto her balcony facing the sea, allowing the summer breeze to dance around her. 

Each time her brother intruded on her thoughts, Rhaenys tried to conjure a positive image of him. The memory of just six moons ago of Egg prancing around Driftmark after winning the small tourney that Lord Lucerys organized for Aurane's nameday, of him extending his lance towards her with those beautiful crimson roses threaded with sea-green vines dangling from it. Of him kneading her shoulders after the castle had gone to bed, to feel his smooth, strong hands glued to her. Instead, only hate bloomed, of revulsion. Her brother was a teenage mummer playing a prince at the moment, she knew this before she had caught Mya Stone with her mouth around his cock. The things that Egg took seriously were few and far between. _Not exactly the quality one would desire out of a crown prince_ , Rhaenys thought, _and it doesn't help that there's another prince who truly acts like one_ , her subconcious added as an after thought.

The princess placed her elbows on the ivory railing with a sigh, leaning forward to smell the salt of the Bay, when suddenly the warm chords of a harp drifted over the sounds of the waves from inside the curtained balcony of the room next to hers. Each note was beautiful than the next, and the combination of the pleasant air, glow of the moon, "Brave Danny Flint," and Dornish Red caused the Dornish girl to close her obsidian eyes and sway gently to the music. Left to her thoughts, the alcohol and music burned through the hurt in her body, leaving visions of dancing fire, the cool touch of snow, and talented pale fingers to manifest in her mind. Her eyes shot open just as the last note of the song went silent. Draning her cup, Rhaenys had never been more sure about anything in her life. Dragons answered to neither gods nor men; if Aegon didn't answer to her, she sure as hells was not going to answer to him. Rhaenys Targaryen was a dragon, and she was going to take as she liked.

After a brief pause to fill a fourth glass, Rhaenys' bare toes touched the cold surface of the hallway and glided to the room next to hers, the last door on the left. She stopped in front of the door to run her fingers over the detailed scene on the door, a dragon and a massive wolf sprinting towards each other. Gently, Rhaenys ventured a first knock, then put an effort into the second and third, harshly rapping against the iron-wood door. One heartbeat, two, and on the third a newly deeper "it's not locked" graced her ears. With one last deep breath, Rhaenys entered her brother's chambers.

From the time they were children, Rhaenys loved Jon's room, especially on rainy days. Every part of it was so _him_ , the dark tapestries, minimal furniture, the softest pillows and warmest blankets. The first thing that the eldest princess realized as she reacquainted herself with the apartments was that her baby brother was not alone. Now when Allyria and Arianne asked who the most beautiful woman in the realm was, Rhae would always tell her Dornish ladies that of course they were, but the real answer to that question was present. Clad in a light blue nightgown that managed to showcase everything yet reveal nothing, with bare feet and pale legs drapped over her brother's lap, sliver-blonde head nestled perfectly against pale muscle, gorgeous purple eyes drowsily hanging on, the only word that could describe her aunt, Daenerys Targaryen, was _ethereal_. Rhaenys' baby brother was equally bare, donning only a pair of black sleeping shorts that crested high on his thighs, subtly displaying every piece of lean flesh and each scar that Jon had already accrued. His raven hair flowed freely past his shoulders, cleanly shaved long face impassive, those storms of indigo and charcoal staring back at her while still holding onto that blessed harp. The tension in the room seemed as real and concrete as the dragonpit as Dany's eyes shot open, turning the couple's full attention on her. A silent standoff lasted five beats of a heart, when summoning her courage, allowing her desire to drip into her blood, Rhaenys spoke up.

"You're going to play me a song, baby brother," Rhaenys began. "Sing for me," she intoned.

Jon met her eyes, and held their now locked gaze for what seemed like an eternity. The look in his eyes brutally stole the air from Rhae's lungs, so much dragon like herself, but infused with a wolf, giving his stare somthing primal mixed with devotion, something consuming. So captivating was her baby brother that Rhaenys barely registered when his eyes closed and the room was transformed by the music coming from his bone-white instrument. Rhaenys Targaryen knew why she came to Jon's room tonight the moment his voice joined the chords.

 

_"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_

_and her kisses were warmer than spring._

_But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_

_and its kiss was a terrible thing"_

 

Golden thigh rubbed against golden thigh under her dress as Rhaenys watched from the doorway, her feet suddenly moving under their own accord. As she closed the distance between her and the pillowed bench, she saw Dany's full lips just barely turn upwards, formerly bright eyes slowly darkening with lust. Taking her final step, Rhaenys felt her blood hum with satisfaction as Dany took her right hand and threaded her own fingers through, and taking her free left hand, Rhae gently touched her brother's cheek, silencing his song with her kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know, I guess I'm just positive that Rhaegar would've taught Jon how to shred with a harp.
> 
> Most mature content I've written I think ever honestly, let me know what ya think of that, it's still a developing skill lol
> 
> Please comment and enjoy, thank you!


End file.
